


Friends and Lovers

by DratTheRat



Series: Friends and Lovers [3]
Category: Dark Tower - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Friendship, Homophobia, M/M, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12318783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DratTheRat/pseuds/DratTheRat
Summary: Roland’s love for Susan cracked his friendship with Cuthbert once before.  Now, it is Cuthbert's love that threatens to break it completely.  Gratuitous porn followed by angsty discussion.  Contains spoilers forWizard and Glass.This story is set some time after my storyThe Full Benefit of Choice, but it can also be read on its own.





	1. Chapter 1

“I had a sweetheart in Gilead, did you know?”

Cuthbert opens his eyes. Squinting, he glances sidelong at Jamie without turning his head. He didn’t know, and it is unlike Jamie to volunteer personal information. He can’t answer, or even look at Jamie properly, because Alain is holding his jaw, tilting his head back against a hot, smooth stone, sliding a razor up along his neck and chin, slicing away the stubble. 

Cuthbert has been rock hard for several minutes in spite of the cool water pooling up around his waist. Jamie probably can’t see, but Alain certainly can; his thumb is pressing none too gently against Cuthbert’s bottom lip. Cuthbert sneaks his tongue out to touch the tip of it, and their eyes meet briefly before Cuthbert looks back toward Jamie, blurry in his peripheral vision - behind and to his left. He wants to hear more.

“I didn’t know,” Alain responds, “Did you, Bert?” He lifts the razor briefly but does not move his hand.

“No,” Cuthbert says as Alain’s thumb slips briefly, barely, into his mouth, “What was she like?” The razor is back, and he swallows against it. His cock twitches.

“We used to walk by the river. Her hands were so small in mine. She was so small. I used to worry I might hurt her when we made love. But I wanted to make her my wife, so we never did. The city fell before our wedding day. I would have been so gentle.” He pauses a long time. “I found her raped and strangled. I’ve only ever been with whores.”

Cuthbert feels a tear slide from the corner of his eye and trickle along the cheekbone, into his ear. If Roland were with them, he might have blinked and cursed the sun shining in his upturned face. But Roland spends more and more time alone, so Cuthbert doesn’t pretend.

“We went looking for our parents,” Alain offers, “My mother was at home, dead on the floor - the building was on fire. We never found anyone else.”

There is more to this story, and Cuthbert is glad the pressure of the razor thwarts his initial impulse to share it. There was a good chance their fathers had perished in the initial assault, though in the smoke and chaos they had never been sure. Cuthbert strongly suspects his own mother may have killed herself to avoid ransom or rape. Like Cuthbert, she had been very comely. Alain’s mother, face smashed in, had been clutching a tiny portrait of her son, beardless and barely a full gunslinger. When Alain had raced into the smoky depths of their rooms in the blind hope of finding his father, Cuthbert had stolen it.

“I am sorry for what happened to your girl,” Alain adds, “I have never had a sweetheart.”

The latter is an outright lie, but it still hurts Cuthbert a little to hear it. 

Alain has finished with his shave. He pats Cuthbert’s cheek and draws away - there is no longer an excuse for them to touch in front of Jamie. Morose conversation and loss of contact have quelled Cuthbert’s erection, and he stretches unselfconsciously and lies back, submerging himself completely for a long moment in the cool water of the stream they have all been bathing in. He runs his fingers up his smooth cheeks and into his hair, combing away the dust and sweat. When he reemerges, Jamie is smirking.

“Oh no?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Alain deadpans.

Jamie cocks his head. “Were you trying to be subtle? Even Roland thinks you are . . .” his smirk deepens, “‘comforting’ each other because you are lonely and frightened and desperate. I reckon he’s proud of himself for humoring you.”

Cuthbert laughs now, darkly “I reckon you’re onto something.”

“But he’s got it wrong, hasn’t he,” Jamie presses, “You’re not just lonely and frightened. You’d be just as desperate for each other if we were back in Gilead and John Farson had never been born.”

“You’ve known about us all along, or guessed. Why press the point now? What have you to gain by this.” Alain moves closer to Cuthbert and places his hand protectively, possessively, on the nape of his neck. 

Jamie shakes his head. “I am not much with words, you know. I see the two of you together, and I think about my sweetheart in Gilead.”

“What was her name?” asks Cuthbert.

“Mary. I think about Mary. She was beautiful - to me at least - and what you have is also beautiful to me. That is all.”

“Are you certain?”

Jamie nods.

“Are you certain that is all?” Cuthbert repeats, leaning closer, very aware now of how naked they all are. His dark brown eyes meet Jamie’s grey ones, pale circles around wide, dark pupils. He is hard again under the water, and Alain’s hand on his neck has become a conduit for his arousal, absorbing it through the touch and passing on Alain’s own lust - into his bloodstream, into his brain.

This time, Jamie shakes his head, “It is too much to ask. I teased before, but what you have is private.”

What would he ask, if he felt welcome? Cuthbert wants badly to make him feel loved. He holds Jamie’s gaze and opens his mouth to offer . . .

“Perhaps you’d like to watch?” Alain offers first. 

A wave of arousal crashes over Cuthbert and he shivers. Yes. That is the sort of thing that Jamie would like best. “Would you?” he asks.

“I . . .” Jamie looks between them. His pale, freckled skin is flushed from more than the hot sun.

Cuthbert twists and kisses Alain softly on the lips then turns, wide-eyed and imploring, toward Jamie. “Would you?”

“Yes.”

Cuthbert smiles at Jamie in relief, in genuine, open happiness that they can use their love for each other in a way that pleases their friend. He is still smiling brightly when Alain claims his mouth, licking along his exposed teeth and making him moan.

“Yes,” Jamie says again, in a whisper.

Cuthbert kisses Alain with gusto, chasing his tongue into his mouth and sucking on his lips. His hands wrap around Alain’s back and tangle in his yellow hair. Alain slides downward, licking Cuthbert’s nipples and kissing his smooth chest, then plunging underneath the surface of the stream, his mouth closing around Cuthbert’s cock under the water. 

Cuthbert giggles and gasps, leaning back against the rocks and gazing across the water at Jamie. He can see his heavy cock bobbing just under the surface of the stream as he watches them. He does not touch himself - perhaps he is planning on saving the memory for later, when he is alone - but he does meet Cuthbert’s eyes and smile. Cuthbert smiles in return, then closes his eyes and leans his head back, hard, against the rock as Alain fondles his balls and fingers his hole. He is still smiling when Alain emerges from the stream, sucking in air and flipping his long hair back with a splash. His index finger still plays around Cuthbert’s entrance, slipping barely in and out as he struggles to relax his muscles without the aid of lubrication. Is he asking if he can fuck him in front of Jamie? 

“Yes,” Cuthbert breathes.

Alain kisses him again and then urges him to turn around on his hands and knees. He places a hand on Cuthbert’s upper back, and the soothing warmth of its heavy presence, of Alain’s encouragement through the touch helps him begin to relax. 

“Are you comfortable?” Alain asks.

Cuthbert makes a noncommittal noise. His knees are digging into the hard, rounded stones at the bottom of the river bed, but they’ve had sex under less ideal conditions than these. 

“We’ll stand when you’re ready, then,” Alain decides.

Cuthbert nods, “Let’s.” 

He looks over at Jamie, whose eyes are wide, his lips parted. He hears Alain spit several times into his hand and lowers himself onto his forearms, letting his forehead and the tip of his nose dip into the water, along with several strands of damp, brown hair. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply as Alain’s spit-slicked finger penetrates him. Jamie gasps.

Spit is not Cuthbert’s favorite lubricant, but they have had nothing better for weeks, maybe months. Vividly, he remembers shaking their last drops of oil onto his own cock before sliding it into Alain, slick and well prepared, as they knelt silently on the sandy floor of a tall pine forest. He had been so close - thrusting hard and fast with his right hand curled tight around Alain’s throbbing erection - when Alain had stilled him with a hand on his hip. 

‘Fuck!’ Alain had whispered, and Cuthbert had been unable to resist answering with one hard, whimsical thrust against Alain’s prostate. Alain had bucked and dissolved into stifled, breathless laughter. ‘There are ants all over the place, Bert.’ 

Cuthbert had pulled out and lowered himself to his hands and knees beside Alain to look. ‘So there are,’ he whispered. Then he turned to look at Alain, ‘Fuck ‘em.’ He had kissed him deeply, with lots of tongue, then flopped onto his back, his bare ass landing on the cool, ant infested sand. 

He had thrust upward into nothing, then tugged at Alain’s nearest thigh until he positioned himself over Cuthbert’s cock and sank down onto it, bracing his strong arms on Cuthbert’s narrow shoulders. An ant had crawled into Cuthbert’s ear as he took hold of Alain’s hips and yanked him down as he thrust up, hard. By the time they were finished, Cuthbert had bruises on his shoulders and bug bites on his ass and ants and sand in his hair and Alain’s cum staining his shirt. 

In the morning, he had hidden the stain under his waistcoat and whined to Roland about having a restless night tossing and turning in the sand and suggested he be more judicious in his choice of campsites. Roland had ruffled his hair, dislodging a cascade of sand and a couple of ants, and smiled at him fondly. Cuthbert had returned the favor - Roland had only slightly less sand in his hair and a series of ant bites running up his left cheek - and grinned.

He had fucked Alain only twice before their oil ran out, and not at all since. He doesn’t mind, has never felt emasculated or submissive. On the contrary, having Alain inside him gives him a sense of freedom, the luxury to lose control. Every other moment of his life is devoted actively and consciously to Roland - analyzing his tactics, questioning his decisions, providing him information, interrupting his solitude, making him smile, keeping him safe. He must be constantly ready to fight, ready to die. When Alain is inside him and holding him tight he can finally relax.

And Alain is always careful. He adds more spit and places kisses up and down the length of Cuthbert’s back, dipping his tongue between the vertebrae. Cuthbert prefers to lie on his back with his legs over Alain’s shoulders or around his waist so that he can look into his eyes and kiss him whenever he wants, but he does love the attention Alain pays to his back when they do it like this. He hums approval, and Alain’s hand moves down past the small of his back to his tailbone, the stroking sensation and Alain’s steady touch helping him to relax further.

Cuthbert hears Jamie moan when Alain spits again and adds a second finger, working it in deep to find his prostate. His head jerks forward; his face hits the stream, and he moans into the water, letting it fill up his mouth. He pulls his face up, dripping, with a breathless laugh. 

“One more,” Alain warns. 

Cuthbert nods, dizzy from pleasure, from the touch. The reflections of the sun on the water are mesmerizing. He cocks his head and follows the reflections over toward Jamie, who bends his head parallel to Cuthbert’s and smiles. Cuthbert smiles loosely back. “Good,” he manages, letting the water lap against his cheek.

“Very good,” Alain murmurs, pressing a third finger carefully inside, “Squeeze.”

Cuthbert does, and Alain makes a choked sound. Then he relaxes and Alain’s three fingers fuck him until he grows impatient. “Are you done yet?”

Alain chuckles. “Let’s stand up.” The fingers withdraw, and Alain stands, circles around to Cuthbert’s front, and grips his biceps. “Come on, I’ve got you.”

Cuthbert lifts his head and raises himself up until his long nose bumps against the tip of Alain’s hard cock. He slides his nose along it, then swallows it down, letting his eyes drift closed. Alain’s fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans deeply. Jamie echoes the sound, softly. Alain pushes himself gently deeper until Cuthbert feels his throat convulse. He pulls back quickly; Alain gasps. 

Suddenly, Cuthbert stands. “Quickly,” he murmurs as he twists past Alain’s ear before bending over, offering himself to Alain. 

“Right,” Alain breathes. He pulls the cheeks of Cuthbert’s ass apart, lines himself up with his entrance, and pushes steadily inside. 

It’s slick enough not to burn badly, but the penetration is still painful. Cuthbert sucks in an audible breath, and Jamie gasps. Cuthbert locks eyes with him. All three of them are breathing hard. 

Alain braces himself on the rocks and bends over Cuthbert’s back to kiss his spine just below the nape of his neck. He wraps his other arm around his middle and again whispers, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me,” Cuthbert echoes. He stares another moment into Jamie’s eyes, aroused and concerned, then closes his own and breathes deeply. He concentrates on the feeling of fullness and closeness and feels himself relax into and around Alain. He brings his right hand up to brace against the rock and dangles his left in the rippling water. “Move.”

Alain straightens up and grips Cuthbert’s hips in both hands. He pulls out slowly and pushes back in.

“Oh,” moans Cuthbert. Alain thrusts again, slowly, sliding against Cuthbert’s prostate. He moans louder and opens his eyes.

“That feels good?” Jamie asks.

“Yes,” Cuthbert and Alain answer, almost together. Alain, still thrusting gently, reaches down to tease his fingers through Cuthbert’s hair. Cuthbert laughs until Alain thrusts harder and he gasps, this time more in pleasure than pain.

Jamie, hard and flushed, is still sitting very still, watching intently.

“Would you like to touch yourself, Jamie?” Cuthbert asks. 

Jamie opens his mouth and closes it again. 

Cuthbert groans and bucks as Alain slams into him again. “Would you like me to touch you?” he suggests.

Jamie looks up at Alain - asking permission - and Alain’s thrusts slow. He bends over again to place kisses on Cuthbert’s back, and Cuthbert reaches back to grasp his hand before extending his fingers toward Jamie.

Finally, Jamie moves and takes his hand. Alain stills and wraps one arm around Cuthbert’s middle again, steadying him. His other hand slides down the underside of Cuthbert’s cock and closes softly over his balls before sneaking back to where they are joined together. Cuthbert thrusts once, fucking himself briefly on Alain’s cock, and Alain moans against his back. He can feel Alain’s chin resting next to his spine as he watches him draw Jamie over.

Cuthbert leads Jamie to stand in front of him and straightens up slightly to look up into his eyes. “Impressive,” he smirks, glancing briefly down at Jamie’s long, thick cock - larger than his or Alain’s. “But then, you have big hands.” He takes the one he’s holding and brings it up to cup his own face before planting a kiss on the palm. “I’m going to suck you now, if I can manage it.”

“Alright,” Jamie breathes. 

Cuthbert grins. He leans back down, shifts one hand to Jamie’s hip, and lightly grasps his erection with the other. He caresses it for a moment, then looks back up at his friend and takes the tip in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the end of it.

“Oh, Cuthbert,” Jamie groans.

Humming in lieu of a smile, Cuthbert closes his eyes and slides Jamie’s cock further into his mouth, loosely grasping the section at the base he can’t quite reach. Jamie moans again, and Cuthbert tightens his fist and begins to move his head and his hand back and forth, enjoying the taste of Jamie’s skin, fresh from the stream.

Once Cuthbert has established a rhythm, Alain begins to thrust again, slowly but deeply.

Cuthbert licks and sucks, strokes and squeezes. Pleasure shoots through him as Alain brushes against his prostate and he loses his own rhythm. Suddenly clumsy, his mouth slackens and slips from Jamie’s cock, and his head droops down. Lightheaded, he stumbles a little and moves his hand from the base of Jamie’s cock to his hip to keep from falling forward. He feels Alain grip his hips tightly, steadying him, though his steady thrusts continue. 

“Alright?” Alain asks, fingers digging into the soft flesh around his pelvic bone as he slides slowly in and out.

Cuthbert nods rapidly, brushing his flushed face and damp hair against Jamie’s pubes, his newly shaven cheek against his cock. Jamie gasps. His large hands come down to cradle Cuthbert’s face, and Cuthbert turns his head to kiss his palm again and meet his anxious eye.

“Perhaps if you held onto me and thrust a little?” he suggests, smiling briefly before his mouth falls open again and his eyes slip closed in pleasure.

“If it pleases you,” Jamie answers.

“Oh yes.” 

Cuthbert braces himself on Jamie’s hip and takes his cock into his mouth again, taking care to cover his teeth. He feels Jamie’s hands adjust - one large palm splays between his neck and shoulder, giving him support, while the other continues to caress his face and hair. He moans, and Jamie begins to thrust softly, in counterpoint to Alain.

“Is this alright?” asks Jamie.

Cuthbert hums and leans further into the strength of Jamie’s arm so that his own hands can wander along his friend’s buttocks and stroke behind his balls. The tip of his finger grazes Jamie’s hole as he thrusts. Jamie moans. Cuthbert swirls his tongue and hums again.

“Reckon it is,” breathes Alain. He increases his pace, and Jamie matches it, though his thrusts remain shallow and gentle.

Cuthbert moans and squeezes Jamie’s ass with both hands, spreading the cheeks apart. Jamie hardens even further and loses control for a moment, thrusting deep enough for Cuthbert to choke. He pulls off and buries his nose in Jamie’s pubic hair, breathing in his scent. Jamie’s cock slides wetly along his slender neck. 

Cuthbert dips his head to nuzzle Jamie’s balls and sucks them each into his mouth, then slides back onto his cock, slipping his hand down Jamie’s crack and between his legs to continue where his mouth left off. He fondles the tightening sacs for a moment before pressing them back, gently but firmly, stretching the skin along the underside of Jamie’s cock. He swirls his tongue and sucks.

“This is . . . you are a lucky man,” Jamie gasps.

“Yes,” Alain agrees, “Cuthbert has much love to give. And so do I, I hope.” He stills, leans forward, and they kiss.

Jamie’s thrusts become erratic. Momentarily free from the added distraction of Alain’s thrusts, Cuthbert pushes away his own need - the feeling of fullness, the ache and tingle in his groin - and concentrates on opening his throat to take him deeper, though he still cannot hold all of his length. Jamie thrusts a few more times, harder than before, and comes, groaning, down Cuthbert’s throat. Cuthbert gags and pulls back, letting the last of Jamie’s release dribble over his lips and chin before he washes it down with a handful of water. Alain’s palms are running over his back.

Jamie drops into a crouch. “Thank you.” He kisses Cuthbert, licking the remains of his own cum from his friend’s lips and caressing the inside of his mouth.

Cuthbert raises a hand to Jamie’s cheek and smiles, sweetly and with genuine affection, “You are very welcome.” 

Jamie smiles back.

Alain’s hands slide down Cuthbert’s back to grip his hips again. Cuthbert raises his eyebrows and grins crookedly before a forceful thrust sends him tumbling - laughing and moaning - into Jamie’s waiting arms.

Then the lightheaded feeling is back as Jamie lifts him up to his full height, pressing his back against Alain’s solid chest. 

Alain adjusts quickly, thrusting hard into his lover at the new, slightly awkward, upward angle. He strikes Cuthbert’s prostate with every nerve rending stroke. 

One strong arm snakes around Cuthbert’s narrow waist, a callused hand running along his chest and abdomen, teasing his hard nipples and stroking the hair leading down to his pubes before settling at the base of his cock. Alain breathes in the sweat beneath his jaw, then scrapes his teeth against the straining tendons in his neck.

Jamie claims his mouth and envelops his straining cock in his large hand. He squeezes Cuthbert into incoherence and jerks him rapidly, each stroke stimulating him tip to base. 

On the brink, Cuthbert pulls his lips away from Jamie’s and turns his head for a half kiss from Alain, who breathes against the side of his mouth. Jamie lowers his head to suck on a prominent collarbone. With a soft cry, Cuthbert comes, his body spasming around Alain’s pounding cock and into Jamie’s fist.

Alain’s hand leaves the base of Cuthbert’s softening cock to pull Jamie’s sticky fingers up into his own mouth so he can suck on them as he thrusts, harder and faster, into Cuthbert’s relaxed and willing body. At last, he leaves off Jamie’s fingers, which come to rest on Cuthbert’s shoulder, and comes with his nose in Cuthbert’s hair, breathing in streamwater and sweat.

Together, he and Jamie lower Cuthbert down. Alain slips out, and Cuthbert settles onto the rocky bottom and leans back against his lover’s chest. Smiling softly in contentment and satisfaction, Cuthbert closes his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

When he opens them a moment later, everything is different.

Grim and serious, Jamie is staring at something over Cuthbert’s shoulder, and Cuthbert’s heart sinks as he guesses what it is. Alain’s arms tighten around his shoulders. Cuthbert has no regrets, and he says so, quietly.

“Do you not?” Jamie answers just as softly. He cocks his head and looks him in the eye.

“I don’t. You have my love. There would be much more shame in regret for the act than for the act itself.”

“There is no shame in the act. I am grateful to have shared your love this once. I thank you both.” He nods and stands, departs to find his clothes.

“You should leave me here, as well,” Cuthbert murmurs to Alain.

“I would rather not.”

“I know.” He tiwsts round to look into Alain’s blue eyes. “But I’m no damsel and no gilly girl and this is not your fight.” He tangles his fingers in Alain’s blond curls and kisses him with force. 

On the bank behind Alain, Roland makes a small sound - disgust? 

Cuthbert closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Go.”

He hears Alain stand and splash away, gather his clothes, pad near silently across the sun-warmed rock. 

When he opens his eyes, he sees only Roland, standing motionless at the edge of the bank. Cuthbert leans back on his elbows with affected nonchalance, puts on the expression of wide eyed innocence - easy to feign with his large eyes and delicate features - that has irritated Roland since they were boys, and waits for him to speak.

For a moment Roland remains still, his thin mouth set harshly in his sharply angled face, his blue eyes piercing Cuthbert’s nakedness. He finally explodes:

“How can you play the whore and let them use you thus?!”

Even though he knew that these would be his words, hearing them makes Cuthbert want to cry. He schools his expression to remain the same. “They are my friends. I love them, and they have my trust. I am not . . .”

“You act a whore!”

Cuthbert’s temper flares. “What, jealous?” He stands, naked and dripping.

Roland looks him up and down. His gaze and voice are hard. “And you would do the same for me if I should ask.”

Cuthbert cannot tell if this is a question. Again, he feels tears threaten to wash away the fire in his eyes. He speaks slowly and softly. “Then you would have my love, but not my trust. You are my dinh, and all of me and mine is yours to take, though this I did not offer.” He takes a shaking breath and steps toward the bank, toward Roland. “You are asking, then?”

Roland’s eyes widen and his mouth goes slack in horror, “No!”

Cuthbert stops and waits.

“No! I do not wish to lose your trust or use you as my whore. It saddens me that trust could be already so brittle between us that you would think it so. I am,” he pauses, “disappointed.”

Cuthbert laughs a little, bitter laugh and looks away. “Yes, I imagine you are.” He smiles to himself, then looks again in Roland’s eye. “I would hate to disappoint you by not being disappointing.”

“Cuthbert . . .”

“Roland?”

“I do not understand. How can you let them use you for their pleasure so? I know you love us all, but what I saw . . . that is not love. I cannot accept that. I love you, and I made you my right hand. How can you betray me with behavior unbecoming of a gunslinger and unbecoming of a man. Have you forgotten the face of your father?”

“I have not.” Cuthbert looks down. He crouches and examines his reflection, distorted by the running stream. His dark eyes and long nose are his father’s, as is his chestnut hair. He sets his finger on the water. “I see it here, I think.”

Roland’s reflection is there, too - blue jeans and black hair. He has his hands on his hips. Cuthbert follows the line of the reflection to its beginning - his friend’s boots - and catches sight of Alain’s shaving kit. The razor, never put away, glints in the late afternoon sun. He squints up at Roland. “Would you like a shave?”

“Do not change the subject.”

“I’m not,” he smiles and picks up the razor and the rest of the kit, “I’m playing for time.” He stands and reaches out toward Roland’s stubble. Roland flinches away. 

Cuthbert’s lips quirk. He forges on, “You need a shave. I’ll give you one. There are some things I wish to say . . . to my friend, whom I love, who is also my dinh.”

Roland looks at him, his expression hard. He strokes his own stubble and nods, lips pursed.

Cuthbert sits, crossed legged, on the rocky bank, opens the kit, and prepares a lather. Though not exactly a pose of supplication, this position places him beneath Roland. Fairly tall himself, and familiar with Roland since they were small boys, Cuthbert has never felt so small next to Roland’s taller frame, so vulnerable in his nudity. Is it possible to be forgiven for an offense if he is not sorry for the action, but only for the reaction of his leader and his friend? Cuthbert keeps his eyes on his task until Roland finally sits close in front of him, his denim clad legs forming a wide triangle around Cuthbert’s naked, folded ones. Cuthbert looks up and begins to apply the lather in uncharacteristic silence.

When he reaches for the razor, Roland stills his hand, “You said that you were going to speak.”

Cuthbert nods, “Yes,” and Roland releases his hand. He slides the blade up Roland’s neck and around the angle of his jaw bone, slicing away the first of his bristles. “I am your right hand, you said. To be so honors me; it is my life.” He continues shaving with extreme care, following the progress of the blade with his eyes, avoiding making eye contact with Roland. 

“You have my life,” he continues, “My blood is yours to spill. You have my body; it is your weapon. I will fight or charm or die for you. You know that this is so.” He withdraws the razor for a moment, and Roland nods consent.

Cuthbert nods as well, and continues, “You have my mind to be your counselor or your fool. My heart in place of the one you left behind in Mejis. You have my very soul. Of all these things, I keep only a tiny fraction for myself, and those pieces of my body, mind, and heart I use as I see fit. I do not offer you what I have given to Alain, what I gave today to Jamie, because I fear I would have nothing left of myself.”

Here, Roland stills his hand. “I understand the extent of your devotion. As I said before, I do not wish to use you thus. But why do you offer yourself up for their pleasure?”

Cuthbert takes a deep breath and looks Roland in the eye. “Because I love Alain as you loved Susan, and he loves me the same. Jamie . . . he saw the love between us. He is lonely. I wanted to share our love with him this once.”

“Just this once?”

Cuthbert nods, “With Jamie.”

“But with Alain . . .”

“Significantly more.”

Roland stands abruptly and wipes the remnants of the lather from his face. “Damn it, Cuthbert! You let him fuck you!” He spits the words.

“Aye,” Cuthbert lays the razor down and stands, “And did not Susan let you fuck her also, cully?” He spreads his arms, waiting for a blow that does not come.

Roland pales. “How dare you speak of her that way, whom you know I loved.”

“And do you not love me? Does not Alain? I am not his gilly!”

“You are not a woman!”

“No,” Cuthbert concedes, “Indeed I am not.” He looks down at his bare cock and balls and laughs. His skin is dry now, his hair nearly so, but the conversation, coupled with the waning sun, have given him a chill. His penis shrinks in on itself, and gooseflesh rises on his arms. “And as you’ve made that point,” he grins, “I reckon I’ll get dressed.”

Roland watches as he pulls on his battered trousers and his boots. He buckles on his guns. He pulls his tunic over his head and tucks it in his waistband. He slips his suspenders over his shoulders, cinches his leather waistcoat tight around his ever-thinning waist, runs his fingers through his drying hair, and shivers. Roland watches still.

Cuthbert lies down on the warm stone and puts his hand over his eyes. “How was it so different,” he asks, “when you thought we only sought each other’s comfort through quick fumbles in the dark?”

“You let him fuck you,” Roland repeats.

“I did. And I liked it, too. Like it. I love him, and I like it very much.”

Roland is silent for a long time. Cuthbert imagines his face shifting through various expressions of disgust and is surprised when Roland sits down next to him.

“I sometimes think about what might have happened if Susan had lived,” he says at last. 

Cuthbert waits and does not answer yet. Roland claims to be unimaginative: he is a keen observer but a mediocre riddler. Quick to judge the facts at hand based on calculating logic and his own experience, he has long relied on Cuthbert’s nimbler mind to find connections that he cannot see. And yet, he has proven himself capable of surprising romantic fancies where Susan is concerned (and also the mythical Dark Tower). 

“I would have brought her back to Gilead,” Roland continues, “and presented her to my father. I promised her that we would marry.”

Cuthbert nods, “I know.”

“Would you have married in Gilead, if the world had not moved on? I know that you have been with women on our journey.”

“I have. I would have, yes. Someone of my father’s choosing. I would still have loved Alain, but . . .” he trails off.

“Someone of your father’s choosing, although you claim to love a man.”

“Of course. You know it would have mattered little whom I loved, unless it were a woman of our station - unlikely, as it was near impossible to get acquainted with one ‘till one’s wedding day.” He grins. “Although, eloping with a milkmaid is just the sort of thing our disapproving elders probably expected me to do. They may have let such a union stand.”

Roland’s long fingers close around one of Cuthbert’s fine boned wrists, drawing his hand from his eye. Cuthbert slips his other hand behind his head and blinks up into Roland’s icy irises.

Roland squeezes his wrist tightly. “Do you claim that you could truly love a woman, although you act like one?”

Cuthbert laughs to hide his hurt at the insult. “Why yes, I reckon I could. I have never had any trouble pleasing one in bed, or being pleased myself. But I do not love a woman. If I were a woman, I reckon I’d have married you.”

Roland nods. “That would have been our fathers’ choosing, yes. Susan - I cannot tell. I like to think we would have wed and raised our child, even with the city crumbling around us. It comforts me and breaks my heart to think they might be with us now.”

Cuthbert nods. He worms his wrist downward in Roland’s grip so that their hands are clasped instead. Their hands are similar, long fingered and fine, though Cuthbert’s are a little smaller. In truth, they have very similar builds overall - long, lean, narrow. It is only Roland’s impressive height that makes Cuthbert seem comparatively slight.

“Yet sometimes,” Roland continues, “I know that that would not have been. My father respected Patrick Delgado, but he was not his equal. Susan had been sold as a gilly. I . . . deflowered her before our wedding night. He might have let me keep her as Thorin had intended, but would he have let us marry?”

“He might,” Cuthbert says, but he remembers Roland’s father’s cold temperament, his loveless marriage, his strong dislike of Cuthbert’s own more emotional and whimsical demeanor, and his disapproval of his closeness to Roland. He suspects he may be right. “It matters not.”

“Perhaps. I was not blind to my father’s flaws, but I would have been ruled by him. I would have broken my promise to Susan.”

“Your father’s word would have overridden it.”

“I was reckless in Mejis. You were right then. You would have been right to be furious.”

Cuthbert drops Roland’s hand. “What I have done is not the same. I have endangered no one’s life; I have not compromised our mission.” Hurt and angry, he makes ready to rise, planting his hand, sticky with his and Roland’s mingled sweat, on the rock to push himself up.

Roland covers it with his own, pressing down hard to trap Cuthbert there. Their faces are close. “Would you have married her?”

“What?”

“Would you have married Susan?”

“Would I have defied my father and married the girl I loved? In a fucking heartbeat. But the consequences would not have been the same for me.” Cuthbert tries half heartedly to pull away. “It is a moot point. You know I cannot marry the person that I love, and yet you rub it in. Our station is the same, but . . .”

“No!” Roland clamps down harder on Cuthbert’s hand. “Would you have married Susan in my stead?”

“Oh. Yes.”

“You would if I had asked?”

“I admired Susan, Roland. She was beautiful and clever and brave. It was only your recklessness that turned me sour, and my own jealousy. If she had lived, if you had thrown her over if your father had forbidden your union I would have been furious, as you say, but mostly with your father. Mostly.” He gives a wry smile. “But, Roland, I would have known even then how unlikely it was that I would find somebody I liked so well among my father’s choosing. She was not so poorly born, and my irresponsibility in such a match would have been more easily overlooked than yours. I would have offered even if you did not ask.”

With sudden, startling, force, Roland wraps Cuthbert in his arms. After a moment of surprise, Cuthbert returns the embrace more gently, hopeful that it will not be their last. 

Eventually, Roland whispers in his ear, “She thought your eyes were beautiful.”

“Are you sure you are not jealous after all?” Cuthbert hopes this will lighten the mood as he brings them back to the subject at hand. Much as he dreads the conclusion, he knows this conflict must be resolved, for the sake of their lifelong friendship as well as their ka-tet.

Roland pulls away, but leaves his hands on Cuthbert’s shoulders. “Jealous that she looked at you, perhaps, and admired what she saw. My desire for her drove a rift between us, Cuthbert, which can never fully heal. Nor should it, though it saddens me, for we are not equals in our ka-tet.”

“No,” Cuthbert agrees.

“But now, with your desires, you threaten to break our bond fully asunder: committing these unnatural acts and comparing them to love!”

“I do not wish to break our bond,” is all Cuthbert can say.

“Will you give him up?”

“If you were asking as my dearest friend, I would not consider it, just as you would not leave Susan at my urging. But,” he takes a deep breath and gathers himself, forcing the words up around the knot in his throat, “you ask me as my dinh. I will be ruled by you.”

Roland’s blue eyes search his face, which he schools into an impassive but serious expression. He squeezes his shoulders and nods. Cuthbert feels his lip tremble and presses his mouth into a hard line. Keen eyed as ever, Roland notices. He lifts one hand and lays it along the side of Cuthbert’s face.

“I ask as a friend.” 

Cuthbert stares for a moment in shock. Then, “I cry your pardon?”

Roland spares him a rare smile and laughs roughly. “He says the magic words!”

Cuthbert’s eyes are still wide, but his mouth curves up in half a smile. “I cry your pardon,” he repeats, more firmly.

Roland nods again. “I cannot pardon you. I do not approve and cannot say I fully understand. But you will hear no more from me on the subject if you remain discreet.”

Cuthbert nods.

“Much more so than today.”

Cuthbert laughs softly. “I will. I promise. Thank you, Roland.”

“Have I your love and trust?”

“You do.”

“And you have mine.” He kisses Cuthbert chastely on the lips. “Go now and take care. My right hand is precious to me.” 

He holds out that hand, and Cuthbert clasps it in both of his and places a kiss on a knuckle. He does not dare open his mouth to speak. He stands and walks back toward their camp, leaving Roland by the stream.


End file.
